


sometimes you gotta bleed to know

by liquidsky



Series: know the sound of your heart [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Life Comes At You Fast Apparently, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 00:59:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18272576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidsky/pseuds/liquidsky
Summary: Taking the piss out of fake vampires is a sure way to get the universe to fuck you over, apparently.





	sometimes you gotta bleed to know

**Author's Note:**

> so, hey. alex's last video with james was literally the best thing i've ever seen in my whole entire life, and honestly not even a second after it was over i opened a new doc to hurriedly write this because i just fucking had to. this is all i have to say for myself. 
> 
> disclaimer: there's some mild description of violence (very mild, re: how james got turned)
> 
> overall this is just more of the same chaotic dumbfuckery i usually write

The whole thing is a terrible idea. James is lounging by one of the chairs wearing his rattiest sweatpants, toe sticking out from the hole in his socks, and Alex is watching him, way too warily for the absolute ridiculousness of the situation. It shouldn't have happened, Alex reckons, it's just not something that _happens_ to people, not in this universe.

Yet somehow it _had_ – serving to prove that taking the piss out of unsuspecting strangers will most definitely always come back to raw you in the ass, and so he should've properly considered the pros and cons of passing judgment, if only in the hopes of dodging this current mess of a sad situation. 

All in all, it's a clusterfuck. No two ways about it, not with James' eyes tired and his skin this pale, not with the twitchy way he keeps tapping his finger against the back of Alex's favorite chair in a rhythm that sounds disturbingly frantic. 

“I can't fucking believe this is happening,” Alex says, just as he had at least forty times in the past two days, and James shoots him a glare. He raises his hands, sheepish but not entirely subdued. “What do you need me to do?” 

James stares at him, and by all means, it should be terrifying, what with the sheer size of his teeth and the brilliant red shade that's taken over the familiar green of his eyes, but it's not. Alex looks down at how James keeps flexing his toe against the floorboards and sighs. 

“I know it’s kind of a fucked situation,” Alex starts. James looks fiercely indignant, mouth falling open and eyebrows flying up, and Alex pauses. 

“You think this is a fucked situation,” James repeats, as if he’s testing how the words fit in his mouth. He frowns, then, and Alex winces. “A fucked situation,”

Alex scratches the back of his neck, “That’s not the most, uh–tactful phrasing, but,”

“Yeah, no shit,” James agrees. Alex looks up at him, and at least he’s lost the frown, “Fucked doesn’t begin to cover it.”

“Sorry,” Alex tells him, because he is. It’s not his fault, James had insisted, even though Alex was the one to suggest the godawful detour that led them away from their usual path home. He’s tried not feeling guilty, but it’s not exactly achievable when he can remember James’ hoarse screams so clearly, can still picture the thrashing of his body fighting their attacker. It was a fucked situation, no doubt, but he thinks back to the wet trail of James’ own blood sliding down his body and understands how that could sound like an understatement. 

“Not your fault,” James says, for the billionth time, and Alex takes three steps forward just as James takes three back. 

“Too close?” Alex asks, and James nods, one of his hands raised in front of him as a “stop” sign. Alex stops, fidgets with the hem of his hoodie so his hands won’t just flop weirdly by his sides. He’s nervous, a little bit, just enough that he knows James can hear it. He can probably hear most things, in all fairness, so Alex clears his throat, and James looks up at him. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” James says, and it sounds more like a warning than intended, but Alex isn’t too fazed. He’s nervous, sure, anxiety prickling underneath his skin, but he’s not _scared_.

“I reckon maybe we should get some towels to put on the floor,” Alex suggests, and that seems to appease James enough that he nods, walks toward the bathroom of Alex and George’s flat as if it’s his own, leaving Alex to gulp down a few deep breaths. 

He comes back with an armful of towels, all of them a pristine white. Alex doesn’t comment on it. They’ll be ruined, but it’s not like it matters all that much in the grand scheme of things. Slowly, he places them on the floor, covering just about the entirety of the space between the chairs. His hair lists weirdly to the side when he looks up to meet Alex’s eyes, and it looks very _human_ , though Alex reckons that’s not an adjective he would’ve reached for before _it_ happened. 

“Fuck, none of the movies ever show this part,” James complains, “All these fucking towels.”

“It kind of ruins the illusion,” Alex says. 

“I smell like death,” James tells him, though Alex doesn’t think so, can barely tell a difference. James smells like James, just a little more faint, maybe. “I’m hungry all the time, my fucking cock won’t get hard, everything looks terrible. Whoever thought about illusion?”

Alex mulls over that, feels off-kilter and unbalanced and sorry, and yet his brain keeps catching on all the wrong fucking details, “Wait, do I look terrible?”

James stares at him, “You look fine.”

“I–,” he starts, and the thought that James could hear how his heart just sped up at his words makes his heart speed up even more. Jesus Christ, “Thanks?”

“Yeah, no worries,” James says, “Are we sure I won’t kill you?”

“The internet says you won’t,” Alex confirms. All the information they found was dodgy at best, but James is hungry and looking more and more murderous by the second, and Alex is currently held hostage by the winning combination of a guilt-trip and a penchant for bad decision-making. “Also I have this,” he says, shaking the ugly monstrosity of a crucifix he’s been holding on to for the past ten minutes. 

“You’ll stop me if you start feeling weak,” James asks. 

Alex nods, “I will. But I won’t have to, the internet says you should recognize someone you love enough. Apparently, the instinct to protect me will override everything else.”

“This sounds so fucking stupid,” James says. Alex agrees, all they’ve found sounds suspiciously close to Twilight fanfiction, but they’re going with it. James loves him, he’s well aware of that fact, even if he doesn’t love him in the way Alex wants him to. He wonders if James can tell that, too, now that he has an all-access subscription to every catch of Alex’s breath or jump in his heartbeat. 

“Very Twilight,” Alex says, and James nods. He looks like he wants to say something else, and Alex rolls his eyes. “What?”

“I love you,” James says, “But like, this whole instinct thing sounds like a load of shite.”

“Yeah,” Alex tells him, “But it’s too fucking late now, mate, you’re sucking me.”

James stares at him for another awfully long second before snorting. “Context is key, huh.”

Alex snorts, too, rolls his eyes with a little too much fondness. James smiles at him, small and guarded, and Alex grins back.

“I’m moving closer, then you can do it,” Alex tells him. James nods and Alex watches carefully as he exhales heavily, runs his tongue along the tips of his visible fangs. It looks – full disclosure here: it looks fucking hot, kind of like Alex’s own, and he wishes more than anything that he’d get a fucking grip on all his wild heap of James–related feelings, knows too well that’s not likely to happen any time soon. 

He maintains eye-contact while walking forward, steps into James’ space quietly and tries to relax as James’ hands close around each of his biceps. James looks down at him, and only then does it occur to Alex that the angle is kind of–uhm.

“We’re gonna have to do this sitting down,” James tells him. He’s not wrong, their ridiculous height difference is not at all suitable for this scenario, and Alex is just. He’s at a loss here, honestly. 

“Fine,” he says, and pushes James down onto the sofa. “How should I–”

“--If you, uh,” James starts at the same time as Alex, clears his throat awkwardly when Alex stops talking and takes to just staring at him, “I think it would be easier if you straddled me?”

Alex pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, looks up at the ceiling then back to meet James’ eyes, “Twilight fanfiction, I swear to god,”

“Shut up,” James says, “Just fucking do it already, talking about this makes it even worse.”

And so Alex does, climbs onto James’ lap with his legs on each side of James’ body. The size difference is barely noticeable like this, except for how startingly big James’ hands feel resting on top of Alex’ thighs. Their faces are close enough that their noses nearly touch, and James’ breath, which comes out more out of habit than out of any real need to breathe, fans warmly against Alex’s lips. Alex very carefully fights against the shiver that threatens to take over his body, looks away from James so he can pretend that he’s got his shit together. It’s useless – there’s no way in hell James can’t hear the rabbit-fast beat of his heart, and isn’t that just fucking atrocious. 

Alex sighs, “Let’s just get on with it, shall we?”

The first scrape of James’ fangs on Alex’ neck feels too much like plastic – it’s a weird feeling, like someone’s dragging the tip of a pen against his skin, and it feels anti-climatic for all of three seconds, until James sinks his teeth in, and sharp pain spreads through his entire body. His yelp gets caught in his throat and James’ hands tighten, fingers digging hard into the meat of Alex’s thighs, but he doesn’t pull away. It hurts, enough to make tears spring to the corners of his eyes, and he can barely breathe through it, the ruthless feeling of James’ deep gulps, and it’s excruciating until it isn’t.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity but realistically couldn’t have been more than a minute, the pain fades. In its place, a steady sort of warm thrumming starts making its way up his body, suspiciously light, curling around his limbs in a way that edges too easily into something he’d call pleasure. It’s nice, good, and Alex’s hands go slack around the crucifix, letting it fall to the floor as James hums against his neck, drinking not in gulps but little sips. 

James’ fingers, which have more likely than not left marks in Alex’s body, now caress up and down in the most soothing manner. Alex lets his body fall closer to James’, leaning into him more heavily. He feels sleepy, soft, but also–there’s the weirdest kind of sensation running along his body now, just as safe as it’s blinding, and he shifts his hips only to have James meet him halfway, grinding up against him. He’s hard – it’s the first conscious thought Alex has, and even calling it conscious is saying a lot considering he abandons all rational thought at the feeling of James’ length dragging against his through the fabric of their pants.

He tries to say something as James retracts his fangs, licks around the edges of Alex’s wound, but his voice is shot to hell and all ability to form sentences has left the building in a hurry, so instead he lets his hands wander all the way up to James’ face, up to thread his fingers through James’ hair and sigh something that he reckons sounds just close enough to James’ name to make him understand. He does, sinks his teeth back into Alex’s skin but doesn’t drink from him, just lets it rest there, not at all painful anymore, just intense and nearly overpowering. 

Intense is good, feels feverishly hot as James pulls him closer and Alex muffles a litany of choked gasps and groans against the side of James’ face. It builds like that, slowly then all at once, until Alex’s entire body feels like it’s caught fire, the combination of pleasure and blood loss making him nearly slide clean off James’ lap as soon as comes, mouth falling open and eyes falling closed.

James holds him, though, both hands traveling fast to grip the back of Alex’s thighs and pull him flush against him. He pulls away from him, then, touches the tips of his fingers to the wound on Alex’s neck and breathes him in softly. They don’t move, except for the quiet way James presses a wet kiss to Alex’s forehead and sags back against the couch, Alex’s body following his. Alex pushes his face against James’ throat, nudges his jaw with the upturned tip of his nose, and James sighs.

The house is silent save for the sound of their breathing, and all is calm until it isn’t:

“Thought you’d said you couldn’t get hard,” Alex comments, words awkwardly round with how tired he feels. 

“Yeah, I thought I couldn’t,” James says, then, “Guess I can’t. Unless there are high stakes involved,” he adds, sounding way too pleased with himself. 

“I fucking hate you,” Alex tells him, feels James’ body shake under his own. 

“Bloody don’t believe you,” James says, and Alex can’t help but laugh, too.

**Author's Note:**

> the title is a line from _tear in my heart_ by _twenty one pilots_. this is not beta'd, by the way, and was written in literally one (1) hour, so if anyone finds any atrocious typos or things like that, feel free to let me know in the comments. thank you very much for reading if you have! <3 (also, as usual, i'm [unhawkeye](unhawkeye.tumblr.com) on tumblr if anyone wants to hang out)


End file.
